Reconcile
by We're All To Blame
Summary: A companion to Unfair- the story told from Cartman's point-of-view. Please R&R.
1. Prologue

"Ay! Where are my cheesy poofs? Butters! BUTTERS!"

"Coming, Eric!" My blond came out of the kitchen and handed the junk food I'd been craving for a while with a smile unlike any another could muster.

I looked down at the food, grinning like- well, a fat kid. "It's about time." As I began to pile the food into my mouth I felt his eyes bring into me- as though he were looking for praise or approval. I glanced up, and stopped stuffing my face for a moment to look over his. After a minute, however, I had to counter a blush creeping over me by firmly stating, "Don't be such a fag, Butters," and returning to my snack.

"Yes, of course, s-sorry, Eric." He looked so disheartened that I nearly attempted to take back my previous statement- nearly. However, he only sat down silently next to me and seemed to get lost in his own thoughts and the television. I took this time to consider why I was so food of the little Melvin.

The first thing that had attracted me to him was the way he eventually allowed his bright, golden hair to fall into his eyes when we hit middle school. I thought it added an air of mystery to him. He tells me now that it was just an experiment to see how he would look without the funky haircut he used to wear, but I was never so sure. I always believed he started to grow his hair in an attempt to hide his face- whether it was because he thought he was ugly, or because he thought he was "no good" I'll never know. It was just a feeling that had always nagged at me though.

Another thing was the strength within him no one else seemed to notice- in truth, I had only stumbled upon it by mistake. When we had gone to some stupid camp-like thing to learn about South Park's past, or whatever the hell we were for there for, and Garrison made us Super Best Fag Buddies or something. Anyway, to make a long and embarrassing story short, I had to spend an entire day with my future boyfriend because I could never pry my hand away from his vise-like grip.

When I had finally worked up the nerve to ask Butters out (which came out sounding more like an irritated demand to join me at the movie by the end of the exchange), my mom was so excited that I was growing up, she couldn't stop crying for three hours straight- seriously. He nervously, yet happily for the most part it seemed, agreed, and we've been hanging out and making out ever since.

The Jew is still trying to figure out my scheme, and why I would choose "poor Butters of all people." He's even convinced Stan Marsh and Kenny McCormick that I have some sadistic goal in mind for when this is all over. The y just can't wrap their heads around the fact that I might already be happy the way things are. They can't comprehend that, for once, I don't have an ulterior motive. That being said, I also haven't treated him too differently from before we were dating- aside from a few inconsistent situations and circumstances. But I simply don't know how to I don't know how to open my heart and be vulnerable to someone else- even when that person holds the key to said heart, cheesy as that sounds it's time.

Perhaps if I'd learned a little sooner, if I had taken a chance for him, he wouldn't have taken his own chances with hearts.


	2. Chapter 1

Sitting in Butters' favorite class, Art, I was attempting to figure out where I should go next on my version of the project we were asked to do. Kyle was drawing some dumbass pumpkin, Kenny had to change his project to a fox because the teacher was a fag, and Stan had been working on one displaying an abstract football in shades of red, white, and blue- Kyle and Kenny kept telling him how great it looked, but I thought it was pretty amateur. Butters was doing an, admittedly cute, rabbit which was nibbling on a few vegetables in a snowy pasture. It was a little ironic the environment it was drawn in, but I supposed that was the point- to find a will to survive in the most destitute of situations. Besides, the food seemed frostbitten, and because he could pull that off I knew Butters had a talent for Art, even though I couldn't admit it to him aloud.

My own "artwork" featured a bag of shit on fire which was, of course, done in browns and reds. Kenny had gotten a pretty good kick out if it, the rest of our group had not been so amused, however. None of them knew that I was working on a different project at home, closer to the actual criteria.

"Why do you let him push you around? I just- I don't understand that." I pretended I couldn't hear Kyle's remark, choosing to continue glaring at the thick paper in front of me, willing inspiration to come. When I heard Butter's whispered reply, I almost smiled to myself but then realized how unhealthy our relationship must sound like- especially to someone like Kyle.

The class was easy enough, but since I knew that I held no talent for it (despite Butters' feeble attempts to convince me of the opposite) I hated having to put my work up for someone else to see and grade. Butters had pleaded for us to take some of the same classes this year, claiming it would be fun, so here I was, using an odd mix of charcoal and pastel which gave the artwork the shading and coloring I had envisioned- even if I still considered my art to be terrible.

Another thing I loved and hated about this class was my best friend Kenny. He provided constant fun and goofing off so I didn't completely lose my mind. He was always flirting with Butters, though- something I hated with every inside I possessed. No matter how many times I punched him in the face or threatened his life, he persisted in his bullshit. In fact, I was beginning to wonder who it was he was looking for a rise from- me or Butters.

"Mr. Stotch and Mr. McCormick! Do you have something to share, or do you just find art class boring?"

I glanced over and stealthily watched as my boyfriend and my best friend were reprimanded and then let go, probably in favor of the romance novels she thought we didn't notice. I bet she only let them off the hook because everyone tended to fall for Kenny's "beautiful" eyes- that's why I hated seeing him around Butters. But I also knew how embarrassed Butters would be, not to mention the trouble he'd get into, if I caused a scene at school, especially during Art. So I just watched as Kenny called him "Butterlips," and the other replied too loudly to avoid punishment- no matter what body part Kenny had decided to give Miss Gold.

Butters would be grounded for sure.

As I realized the only consequence this scenario could lend itself to, I was also planning how I would charm his parents into, at the very least, a lighter sentence.


	3. Chapter 2

"Are you okay, Hun? You've hardly touched your pancakes." My mom looks at me with concern marring her slightly aging, but still beautiful features. I gaze at her from my barely raised posture through half-lidded brown eyes- eyes much like hers.

"Hm?" I grunted boredly, not really processing her question at first. "Oh, I'm, uh, I'm fine, Mom. Just a little tired from school being a thick dildo; in fact, I'm going to head upstairs." With that, I left her in the living room doorway to think whatever she would now about my high school.

My plan for busting Butters out was not coming together. I couldn't for the life of me figure out how I was going to lessen the grounding received from detention, a grounding "justly given" for such a crime. I never did understand why his parents punished Butters as often as they did- it was rare that he ever did anything to warrant that behavior. I supposed I never could understand what sort of life was life for my boyfriend because I had never really been raised like that in the entirety of my life. Sure, there had been a few instances where my mom had tried to seize control, but my bratty behavior had always won out in the end (though, now I tried to keep her life as unstressed as possible).

As I reached my room, it occurred to me that Butters probably had nothing to do in his room right now, which kind of bummed me out. Contrary to popular belief, I didn't take pleasure in Butters' misery. Suddenly, an idea for him weaseled its way into my head, and I ran back downstairs past my more-than-befuddled mother, headed in the direction of his house. He might hate it at first, but I knew he would eventually give in, and maybe even begin to enjoy himself after a while. Of course, the activity of what we might do didn't occur to me as I shimmied up the latticed wall to his bedroom window, determined to try and make his day a little more bearable.

I observed him sitting at his desk with a concentrated frown on his face, probably working on another picture. I almost didn't tap on the glass, my hand apparently had a mind of its own, however, as my fingers rapped for me. He jumped slightly, and he turned wide eyes to warily assess what was knocking at his window. When he saw that it was me, he stood and hurried over and quietly as he could, addressed me. W-what are you doing here? If m-my parents see you, why, we'll both be in b-big trouble!"

"What do you think I'm doing here?" I didn't mean to get short with him, but it was kind of chilly outside, even for a Colorado evening, and I could feel that my numbing fingers were beginning to get slippery. "I'm busting you out, babe!"

He asked me why which kind of irked me, but I took the time to consider my answer. I wasn't ready for him to know about my concerns for his happiness just yet, of how deep my feelings really went for him, so I decided I would go with a scapegoat- Kenny McCormick. I had to make it believable, didn't I? "I feel bad about Kenny getting you grounded so we're going to go and TP his house. It's gonna be sweet." I grinned so he would know it'd be all in good fun, but the look I his eyes brought me back to the time we TPed that one teacher's house- not fun memories.

"Oh, I don't know, Eric," I should have known even without the memories that he would fight me on this. "He didn't mean to… to get me into tr-trouble; it was my fault for being so wild." His eyebrows went down in the middle to show his seriousness, and I had to resist the urge to chuckle at his adorable expression, so I rolled my eyes instead.

"Are you coming or not, Butters? I don't have time to sit here all day."

"I-I don't know, Eric- m-my parents are… are awful sore right now, and-" I was losing this battle and needed to act fast.

"Oh, come on, Butters! Where's your sense of fun? I'm dying here! Doesn't my boyfriend want to spend time with me?" The pout may have been overkill, but when I saw his nearly unnoticeable glance toward his door as he nibbled his bottom lip, I knew what his decision would ultimately be.

"Well, of… of course I want to spend t-time with you, Eric…" it seemed I had to nudge him a little more to my line of sight in this argument.

"Then come on!" And with that, I left him to his choice, and climbed back down the side of his house. I vaguely heard myself asking if he was coming along, but I noticed the smile that spread across my face when I him following me out of his room and away from his house. I felt laughter from the old me I had slightly repressed bursting forth when Butters' father began to yell at our backs.

Tonight would be a night to remember.


	4. Chapter 3

"So where do you want to go, Butters?" I asked once I'd slowed down to a low chuckle. I knew I'd said something about going to Kenny's house, but honestly I was only kidding- not that I expected Butters to realize it, but I'll take what I can get. Anyway, I didn't mind Butters choosing an activity for the both os us- Mom said I should try not to be so in control all the time.

"Um… I'm not sure. W-what about you, E-Eric?"

"I don't know- let's hang out at my house?" I suggested this firmly, because I was started to feel strange in my nether regions, because of his adorable face and voice, and I figured we'd be better off around an adult (even if it _was_ my mom). He agreed to it as I knew he would, and our journey slipped into the comfortable silence of knowing your destination and sharing it with someone you liked spending time with.

Stepping inside of my house, we were hit full force with the scent of freshly baked cookies. I sat on the couch and waited for Butters to join me just as my mother was entering the room with snacks. "Well, hello, Butters, would you like some cookies? I wasn't expecting you over or I would have made more- Linda said you weren't allowed out today; guess she changed her mind."

Realizing I needed to act quickly or Butters would spill the beans, I growled out, "She sure did. Mom, where are my cookies and cheesy poofs? I'm starving!"

"Right here, sweetie!" She sang, setting two family-sized bags of cheesy poofs and a large plate of cookies in front of me. I stared at the amount of food for a moment longer than usual, contemplating how and why I'd gotten to the point of eating these kinds of portions. I tried not think about it too long- didn't want to hurt Mom's feeling after all- and began to shovel food into my mouth.

I vaguely registered through the rapidly increasing heartburn, Butters trying to convince my mom that he didn't need a snack. We both knew, however, that this was like convincing Hitler that it wasn't all Jews who had wronged him because of his father and the art school; it wasn't going to happen. Not surprised when Butters sat next to me in defeat, we waited out the inevitable, silently contemplating whatever it was we contemplate while quiet. Terrance and Phillip weren't all that funny anymore, but I had to keep appearances, and besides, Butters still gave the show a few twitters now and then, so I did too.

My boyfriend turned his pale blue, doe eyes to me in my peripheral vision, and began to speak to the side of my mammoth face. "So, uh, E-Eric, what do you want to… to do?" The way he would still stutter caused my heart to nearly explode in my chest- he was so adorable, but I couldn't show that, of course.

I gave him a "me" look. "I'm watching Terrance and Phillip, Butters; that's what I want to do." Returning my face to the forward position, I found that though my eyes were taking in the images, and my mouth would laugh harshly at the appropriate "jokes," I was no longer paying the screen in front of us any mind. I thought again about how I constantly pushed Butters' affection aside and how he would always try his best to keep his smile on and his spirits up.

I stole a glance at him from the corners of my eyes and the look illustrated through his slightly down-turned mouth, and tangled eyebrows. I guessed it was time to try and tell him how I felt.

"Hey, Butters?" I started out in barely more than a whisper, and still my voice cracked nervously. I cleared my throat in a vain attempt to intimate the butterflies to leave my insides alone. Mom entered then to give the blond next to me his enormous plate, piled seemingly halfway to the ceiling with sweets and other junk. As soon as I was sure she out of earshot, I continued my efforts to convey my thoughts into words that never seemed to mean as much.

"I know we don't always see eye-to-eye on everything from my diet to the way I treat my friends, and know that I don't always take what you have to think or say into consideration before I do or say something. But I want you to know that even though I could do better at showing it, I care about you and only ever think about how to make you happy; I… love you…." I blushed as I ran it back again in my head and heard the neighs of unicorns, and the taste of rainbows and other sissy bullshit hit me full-force in the gut. I glanced over at Butters to catch his reaction, and noticed that he was staring at the television with a glazed expression in his eyes. He hadn't heard a single word I'd said!

"AY! I'm talking to you, you black asshole!" I yelled at the side of his face, trying to get him to see that I was still here. My old accent came back in all its "glory," and I cringed slightly at the ugly sound.

"I-I'm sorry," I barely noticed when he gazed at my floor in shame. "What were you-you tr-trying to say, Eric?"

I sighed at his tone, because I could hear the hurt he tried to hide in it. I turned to the show once more, knowing the truth would things even more awkward and difficult between us. "I was a talking about a joke from the show. Don't worry about it, Butters; it's not funny anymore."

I was kidding myself if I thought I could be anything different with Butters- he was an open book, and I didn't know how to express myself in anything but lies anymore. All I could do was allow myself little slip-ups and pretend I hadn't noticed when I did so. I was dreaming and living in my own fantasies, where it all was a perfect world, and Butters and I could communicate as we should. Where I could let him in without a concern toward my reputation or what my friends might say or think. Where I could be "Eric" again, instead of "Cartman."


	5. Chapter 4

Butters went home, and I journeyed up to my room and pulled out my computer to play some online video games. I kept thinking about what his parents must be thinking about us running of like that. Maybe I should've gone with him for support or an explanation…? I decided to call Kenny to get advice on what I should do right now.

"Well, dude, maybe you should hand him over to someone more responsible with him." He spoke after a moment, mirth and sick enjoyment evident in his tone.

"You mean hand him to someone who got him a detention he really didn't deserve? Shut up, Kenny." I didn't manage an efficient job of keeping the growl out of mine. Honestly- what kind of friend constantly flirts with my boyfriend for whatever reason he did? I needed new friends….

"Okay, okay, I can take a hint; sorry, man." I could almost see skinny hands raised in surrender and his hazel blues twinkling in his annoying laughter. "But seriously, dude, you might want to talk to his parents if you really think you want to help get Butters off." There was a small pause then uproarious laughter as he realized the implications behind what he'd just said. I rolled my eyes, but I was unable to help chuckling slightly as well. What can I say- I'm Eric Cartman.

"Alright, Kenny- thanks for your terrible advice." I choked through the chortles, "I have to go now, Mom's at the door." It wasn't the most honest I'd ever been, but why should I change my character for him now? Besides, I needed a quick way out of the electronic conversation, and my currently out-on-the-town mother was my ticket to success.

"Whatever, dude, but I'm serious about talking to his parents- they might start re-thinking this whole let-Butters-have-a-boyfriend thing if you don't shape up into a model guy." With that, he hung up and left me to my thoughts. Well, that was a gigantic waste of my time; he didn't tell me anything I didn't already know. Then again, that may have been the reason, subconsciously, that I'd called him in the first place. If I hadn't heard the words from my own musings spoken aloud from the mouth of one of the few people I trusted, I more than likely wouldn't act upon them. Butters and I could likely drift apart or worse, be ripped from one another if I can't straighten myself out.

What if Butters didn't want me anymore though? What if everything that I'd given up part of my reputation for, is already gone for good? Maybe it was too late and there was nothing left Butters could see in me worth fighting for? This wasn't the first time these questions plagued me, but I'd never found a way to rid myself of them, so in my head and heart they remained.

I looked to my desk and pulled out the real Art project I'd been doing. I'd never turn it in, wouldn't even show it to Kenny or Butters because of the consequences that could ensue. And I supposed that was my entire problem in a nutshell- I wasn't afraid of normal things like normal teenagers, but I was terrified of people knowing who I really was and how I felt secretly; it seemed only bad experiences came out of it for me. That was okay though- I'd rather be the asshole of the class than the fag as long as I had Butters. The piece I was working on was an overly simplistic, borderline-childish, rendition of a heart-shaped tub of butter overflowing with shards of glass done in shades of black and white. I was actually pretty proud of my work considering I didn't really think about what to draw during the process; I just let my fingers and emotions take over. Ugh, what a queer thing to think. A therapist might have considered it and said the tub represented my dependency on Butters, while the glass within and without would've symbolize both my broken heart about my constant lies, and my broken identity. Which would leave the black and white to suggest that I was beginning to grow numb yet cynical to the world or something along those lines- it's not like I ever read about Psychology or anything.

It made me wonder, and not for the first time, what a shrink would say upon reviewing Butters' handiwork. I realized maybe I didn't know Butters as well as I thought or once did. Maybe it was time to pull the shrouds away and become a bit more open and honest in our relationship. I could possibly even ask Ken for help in roundabout ways. The more I thought about it, the more appealing the idea became. It also dawned on me that I'd have to do what I'd been too afraid to do from the beginning of our dating forward.

I had to court my own boyfriend.


	6. Chapter 5

I drew up the plans for my scheme and then lay down to sleep. The trouble was, sleep didn't easily find me, though you'd think I'd have my own gravitational pull complete with satellites free of charge. I instead passed the creeping minutes by recounting everything I liked and hated about my friends and about Butters.

I decided to start with Stan. The raven was probably the least verbally abused out of everyone I hung around on a regular basis, and I honestly would never be able to give a solid reason why. If I had to guess, my money would be on that he wasn't nearly as fun to pick on as Kyle or Kenny- they were always turning red and bitching out. But Stan was relatively calm whenever he was telling me to go screw myself. But it was strange that that was also one of the reasons I admired him. He didn't get as worked up as the rest of us about things and that was kind of cool- not that I would ever admit to that. He was arguably the best football player our town had ever seen, but I truly wasn't jealous of him- I was the greatest mastermind and psychological manipulator no one in this bathwater town had heard of. He was more than decent at the guitar, and though I'd never tell anyone, I was pretty proficient myself at playing piano. Stan, I didn't really see as a social threat. Sure, he was more popular, and better at sports, and had more dates with girls than I'd ever dare to dream of in my lifetime. But I was much cleverer than he was so I figured that it all worked out.

Then came Kenny. He was my best friend, but he also held the rank of Back-up Bitch. Whenever Kyle was sick or out-of-current-reach, he was my second favorite choice to bag on. Any and every time I brought up his financial of familial statuses, he'd lose his mind. Actually, I wasn't quite sure why he hung around me anymore- or Kyle for that matter. Stan I knew stayed around because Kyle did, but not much could be said about the other two on that choice. The thing that got on my nerves the worst about Kenny though, was obviously when he was trying to put moves on my Butters. Whether he was joking or not I punched him for it, but he never seemed to get the hint to leave my yellow-haired boyfriend alone. I guessed I could say something to him on the subject but why should I have to? That poor bastard should have enough respect for this to not be an issue in the first place.

Next on the list was one Kyle Broflovski. I'd been annoying him since we were in pre-school but whenever he thought I was in trouble or my soul was in danger, it appeared as if none of that mattered anymore as he would rush to my rescue. The other half to Stan, it honestly surprised me that the two didn't look like they wanted to sleep with one another, and Stan was dating Wendy whilst seemingly flirting with Kenny, and Kyle was apparently the most asexual at the moment our of all of us. Since our elementary school days, he had less crushes and girlfriends and studied harder. When I asked about it, he only vaguely said from behind a law book that girls weren't going to get him into Harvard. While I could see where he was coming from, though I called him "stupid Faggot Jew" at the time, I couldn't quite grasp how that determination completely shut out his hormones. The thing I hated about the Jew was his "holier than thou" attitude- enough said.

Last but certainly not least was Leopold Stotch, better known by the rest of us as Butters. He was the most abused out of everyone who still associated with me simply because he hung around me more than the others. That alone should be getting him an award of upmost prestige, but instead he was constantly grounded and being called faggot by his _boy_friend. I really should be letting him go, but I was much to selfish for that so I settled on showering him with highly subtle and occasional affection. That was kind of what was adorable about Butters though. He had this insane naivety that told him there was good in everyone as long as you were willing to search it out. It was a double-edged sword though as it just as often irked me as it made me smile- sometimes I wanted to shake him, and scream, and ask him why he was still putting up with me and everyone else who only served to push him down and hold him back. But once again, I was too selfish to do any of this, so I just let him suffer through everything.

We had all shared our good times and our bad times with one each other, and it's probably what had made our friendships last as long as they did. We were stronger for what we had faced together, and had something mutual understanding for one another no one else would be able to understand. But I was beginning to feel my eyes drooping and my consciousness drifting away, so I only gave in to the sleep cradling me to rest- I could ponder these feelings and consider my demons another day.

A/N: When I update this, it will be a chapter behind Unfair, so bear with me- I'll get everything caught up to where it needs to be. That being said, I hope you've enjoyed the chapters I've posted so far and continue on this journey of Cartman's and Butters' relationship through Cartman's eyes. Until next time! ^_^

PS: I'll try to have the update no later than the end of this week or next Monday; school might make this difficult though. :P


	7. Chapter 6

That night I experienced a torrent of different dreams, some pleasant and some not, but most were too oblique to grasp fully. The first was Butters and I dancing at some masquerade party. I looked over to see Kyle and Stan laughing every time my feet managed to find Butters' toes, and Kenny was walking the room flirting with, literally, everyone. When he came over to us, I broke some previously unseen bottle and slit his throat. All of the other people began to scream and run in circles and for the nearest exits, while Butters just chuckled and gave me a stern look from below knitted eyebrows.

I picked him up, made for the doors, and pulled a still-breathing-just-fine Kenny along with us. We left the ballroom to discover ourselves running through some god-forsaken forest. Suddenly, I was alone and racing for my life from some intangible, yet somehow very deadly threat. My senses heightened, and I could smell beneath my feet the wet leaves from fresh rain, hear the slight snapping of softened twigs from somewhere behind me, and feel the putrid, ragged breath of whatever creature chased me, causing the thin hairs on my neck stand up. The scarcely risen moon did little to send into light in between the thickly grown trees, and I stumbled on blindly while sharpened blades played lightly on the skin on my back. Running as fast my legs would move me, I noticed a small opening of soft light on the far side of the woods. A clearing, or an escape maybe? I hardly cared which as I sprinted faster when it seemed to be getting more and more distant from me, and I realized with growing despair that I'd never reach it.

And the thing behind me finally attacked and overtook me. Opening my tightly squeezed brown eyes, they took in one of the high school's hallways. Upon further inspection, I discovered it was the very one in which I asked Butters to be mine. I spotted him at the end with someone else, but I was too far away to know who it was. I ventured closer to them to find that they were enveloped in deep, hushed conversation. I tried to speak to Butters, but no words would come out of my throat; he turned though, and sneered in my direction, causing me to falter in my footsteps. He asked me coldly what I was doing there, and I could feel the cold weight in my ribcage dropping to the pit of my stomach as he continued to say what a useless waste of flesh I was, that I would never amount to anything, _could_ never amount to anything, because my attitude and treatment of others would prohibit me from doing so. Then the other guy, a faceless but blond Nobody really, stopped him in his berating, leading him down the remainder of the space and away from me.

In the blink of eye the scenery around me changed again and this time it stilled on the inside of some unfamiliar house. I attempted to make my way through the rooms to find my way back out, however, every path I took, every door I opened, lead me back to the original foyer. Even so, I persisted in my impractical task, feeling a particular maliciousness in another, intangible presence within the very walls of the house. A chilling screech sounded from somewhere on the second floor and I suddenly saw stairs.

As my eyes settled on them though, an almost forgotten alarm woke me up.


End file.
